Glastonbury
by elanev91
Summary: Fic for Jily Challenge on Tumblr. Prompt: we're at a music festival and you crawled into my tent when drunk and fell asleep, now you've woken up bewildered and to be honest I should be more annoyed but you're just so good looking


**This, uh… got a bit out of hand (#onbrand). Also, a bit of smut ahead Enjoy friends!**

* * *

'Why in the bloomin' _fuck_ did we let you convince us that this was going to be a good idea, Sirius?'

James, about twenty back in the queue for the nastiest toilet cubicles to exist on planet Earth, shot Sirius a look that probably would have struck anyone else down immediately. Sirius grinned, grabbed James by the shoulders and shook, 'The music! The energy! The _adventure_!'

James smacked Sirius' hands from his shoulders, 'No fucking part of this reads "adventure," mate.'

Granted, they'd only been at the festival for a few hours, had only set up their tents and gone to see a few of the afternoon acts, but James was confident that the rest of the weekend would prove as non-adventurey as the first few hours.

Sirius rounded on Remus, 'What say you, love? Are you in the Glastonbury spirit yet?'

Remus sighed, 'I'm saying that you're lucky you're fit, because I also really want to kill you right now.'

Sirius groaned, stepped forward with the queue, 'You two are spoil sports.'

'No, Sirius,' James said, rolling his eyes, 'we just aren't fond of the giant fucking mud pit that you've dragged us to.'

' _Please,_ ' Sirius said, laughing now, 'I didn't drag you! You were so excited a week ago!'

James sighed, 'This was before I realised the festival took place in a literal fucking swamp!'

Sirius laughed, 'Well, that's your own fault.'

James shot him a look, 'How is that my fault?!'

'This happens every year!'

'AND YOU STILL BROUGHT US HERE?'

Sirius patted James on the arm, 'Relax, James, you'll forget all about how irritated you are with me when you get to see your precious Ed Sheeran.'

James huffed, 'Don't make fun of me, Ed is the only reason that I haven't pushed you into the mud yet. And I still have two whole days of this before I get to see him, so I might just give in and do it if you don't watch it.'

'Please, like that would bother me. The mud is good for your skin.'

'I highly doubt _this_ mud would be good for your skin, Sirius,' Remus said, cringing, 'It's probably full of all kinds of shit we don't even want to begin to think about.'

'No,' Sirius said, 'it's just mud. Look!' And before anyone could stop him, Sirius stepped out of the queue for the toilets, and dove, _dove,_ into the giant mud puddle they'd studiously avoided on their walk over to the toilet cubicles.

'Oh my fucking god,' Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, 'he really - he really just fucking - '

'Yup,' James said, watching Sirius now struggle (dramatically) to push himself up onto his arms, 'he really just fucking did.'

Remus turned his body completely so that he couldn't even see Sirius out of the corner of his eye, 'I'm just going to let him die in that mud. I'm not saving him. James, whatever you do, do not let me save him.'

As if on cue, Sirius began yelling from the mud pit, 'Remus! Help me!'

He'd managed to push himself up onto his hands, but was now making a very dramatic show of getting out, making like he was stuck in the mud and had no chance of survival otherwise. 'Remus,' he shouted again, and Remus caught James' eye, shook his head, 'Remus! Love of my life! My soulmate! My one true love! Come save me!'

Remus managed to make it through his turn in the cubicle before he finally gave in and went to save Sirius. James shook his head at Remus as they walked from the toilets over to the mud pit where Sirius was still lying (now on his back making "mud angels"), 'I thought you weren't supposed to save him.'

Remus sighed, 'You know we can't leave him here.'

'Yes,' James said, and he jerked to a stop, pulled his wellie free from the spot of mud it'd gotten stuck in, 'yes, we definitely can. He can get out, he's just choosing not to!'

'You're starting to sound like me,' Remus said, laughing. James sighed, ran a hand through his hair, 'Two bloody decades of friendship was bound to rub off sometime.'

Remus laughed, 'True.'

Sirius shouted again from the mud ('REMUS, BABY, YOU'RE REALLY GOING TO LET ME DIE HERE?') and Remus sighed, shot James a look as he brushed his hair out of his eyes, 'I guess I better go save him.'

James snorted, 'I'll go to the John Peel stage or something, then. I'm sure he'll want a shower and then you two will end up fucking, and as much as I love you, I don't need to sit around for whatever marathon fuck-fest is about to happen.'

Remus laughed, 'We are _not_ going to - '

James shot him a look, and Remus tipped his head, 'Well, yeah, alright.'

James laughed, 'Alright, well, you go save your Prince Charming, and just… just text me when you two are ready for company again, yeah?'

Remus laughed, started walking over towards Sirius, 'You know that if Sirius had heard you say that, you'd never live it down, right?'

James grinned, 'Don't I know it.'

James turned and he heard Sirius shout, 'WHAT DID JAMES SAY?!' as he started walking away.

* * *

When they finally made it back to their tents that night, James was, if he was being completely honest, dead knackered and ready to go to bed. Remus, through, dug a bottle of Irish whiskey out of his bag, took a long swig, and began passing the bottle round.

'Alright, Lupin,' James said, smiling at Remus. Remus grinned, 'Only the best, you know that.'

James laughed, took a quick drink, passed the bottle to Sirius, and plopped down onto the floor of the tent.

Sirius took a long pull before he handed the bottle back to Remus, and they settled on the floor across from James, the bottle between them, grabbing for it when they wanted to, passing it round.

'Best act of the day,' Sirius said, grabbing the bottle from the centre of the floor and taking another drag, 'Discuss.'

James shrugged, 'Well, we all know I'm just waiting for Ed Sheeran - ' Sirius hit him in the head with a stray sock he'd grabbed off the floor, made a loud buzzer noise, 'You're out, Potter.'

James grinned at Remus, grabbed the bottle, took a swig.

'Well,' Remus said, reaching out for the bottle when James was finished, 'I'm waiting for the Dropkick Murphys, we - '

Sirius made the buzzer noise again, 'Nice try, you lying bastard,' he said, grabbing the bottle from Remus and taking a drink, 'We _both_ know you hate them. Real answer. _Now._ '

Remus hummed thoughtfully, 'Maybe… The XX?'

Sirius gaped at him, 'What?!'

James leaned back onto his elbows and watched them, Sirius gesturing wildly, Remus' arm resting casually around his shoulders, a slow, steady smile on his face as he shook his head at every point Sirius made. He couldn't believe, especially looking at them now, that they'd ever _not_ been together.

It was the easy grace with which they moved alongside one another, even in unfamiliar settings. Sirius was a human hurricane, an unstoppable force; his unpredictability and energy kept Remus on his toes, pushed him out of his comfort zone. Remus was unflappable, the strong, unwavering presence Sirius needed; he was a gentle reminder, a soothing hand, a warm arm around Sirius' shoulders, and a smooth, steady inhale - for Sirius, he was _home,_ and you could see it on every part of him, of both of them, whenever they were together.

They met one another in the middle, made each other better, and the nearly unbelievable happiness radiating off of them almost made James laugh at the memory of them in sixth form, dancing around one another, terrified of falling in love and breaking their friendship apart. How they could ever have been so stupid as to think it wouldn't work, James would never understand.

Sirius snapped his fingers at James, 'Earth to James. You in there, mate?'

James laughed, 'Yeah, shit, sorry.' He ran a hand through his hair, pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Sirius shook his head at Remus, 'This one,' and tipped the bottle back, took two long pulls, and reached across to hand it to James.

James shook his head, and Sirius huffed, 'Come _on_ , James, do another one!'

Sirius leaned over, prodded him in the knee with the bottle, and James sighed, grabbed it from Sirius' hand, and took another long pull. 'When I need a new liver,' James said, wiping a drop of whiskey from his lips and handing the bottle back to Sirius, 'I'm taking half of yours, Sirius.'

Sirius laughed, threw back another drink, 'That would be a mistake, love.'

* * *

So far, Glastonbury had been a far weirder experience than James had ever anticipated. Sirius had been right yesterday in the queue for the toilets - it _was_ all the things James should like - lots of people, mad energy, music, _noise_ \- but it just wasn't clicking for him. _Maybe I'm too old now. Fuck._

At least he had Ed Sheeran to look forward to tomorrow.

When James woke up the next morning, though, he thought that he might have judged Glastonbury a bit too soon.

The whiskey they'd drank the night before was still clouding the edges of his brain, but whiskey or not, he was a hundred percent sure that he wasn't imagining the red head lying on the ground next to him. He couldn't believe it when he'd opened his eyes, because he was positive, _positive,_ that he hadn't wandered out of Remus and Sirius' tent and met anyone. Especially not someone… not someone like the woman lying beside him.

He would have remembered her, whiskey brain or not.

Her hair was a deep, brilliant red, and it was curling softly around her face, and even though it was coated in what looked like some kind of glitter paint from the day before, James could tell that it would be soft if he touched it. Her cheeks, forehead, the bridge of her nose were covered in a light smattering of freckles, some of them light enough that he could barely see them, her lips were parted _just_ a bit with sleep, and she looked so fucking adorable (beautiful, stunning, heart-stoppingly gorgeous) lying there, that he felt his pulse start to race.

He almost forgot, _almost_ , that he had no idea who she was, or how she had ended up in his tent, in his sleeping bag. Almost forgot that this was the kind of information that he should probably be interested in getting from her.

But she was lying there on her side, on the floor of his tent, one of her arms curled underneath of her head in a makeshift pillow, the other hand resting in the space between them, her fingertips close enough that they would brush his forearm if he moved just a few centimetres to the right. They might have been sleeping that close the entire night, might have even accidentally made contact as some point, but now that he was aware of her, he realised how much heat was radiating off of her, how much his body tingled in the places closest to hers. He thanked _fuck_ that he'd thought to buy the widest sleeping bag they sold at Blacks, because otherwise this would have been very, very embarrassing.

As it was, he was struggling - he turned his head, pressed his left hand to his eyes, _think about anything else, Potter. Literally anything else._

He wasn't sure what to do, now that he was lying here thinking about it - he had half a mind to pull out his mobile and text Remus, ask for advice, but, he reached up blindly behind him and grabbed his watch (and his glasses for good measure), it was just gone seven, and there was no way that those two were up yet.

He decided that he was going to clear his throat, or, _or,_ he could just shift around in the sleeping bag, maybe bump her intentionally, and she'd wake up on her own. He'd have to pretend to be sleeping if he was realistically going to get that to work. Then she could leave of her own accord, they wouldn't have to have this awkward 'How did you get into my tent' conversation, and she could slip out without having to face him.

Except… except he didn't want her not to have to face him.

It was incredibly selfish, he knew it was, to want to put her through the wringer just because he wanted the chance to talk to her. And, who knows, it might even go horribly, horribly wrong. She could smack him, or kick him, or think that _he_ had accidentally crawled into _her_ tent with some kind of nefarious deed in mind ( _thank god Sirius isn't here and can't read minds, he would never let me live that down_ ). He was, after all, shirtless _,_ was just in his fucking pants - how was she supposed to know that he wasn't trying to do anything to her?

But still… he wanted to at least know her name. _At least._

So he settled on a blended version of his earlier plan, and, after taking a deep (quiet) breath, he closed his eyes, cleared his throat (as he imagined that he would do if he were sleeping), and shifted _just_ enough in the bag so that his elbow bumped up against hers. He waited for a moment, eyes closed, but when he didn't hear any signs of movement, he took a deep breath and peeped at her from under his eyelashes.

 _Still asleep._

And, now that he was really thinking about it, that was probably because of the gin smell wafting off of her. If she drunk slept anything like Sirius, he could bang a bloody pot over her head and she wouldn't wake up. He sighed, but, not ready to give up his initial plan, decided that he was going to try it at least one more time. If that failed, then he was going to take a more immediate course of action.

He closed his eyes, cleared his throat a bit louder, bumped his elbow a bit harder against hers, but she still, _bloody hell,_ didn't move.

He sighed. _Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?_

He thought for a moment, and, figuring it was his best course of action at this point, reached over and, as gently as he could manage, grabbed her shoulder and shook her lightly back and forth, 'Hey,' he said, and he let his voice rise to normal speaking volume, 'Uh… hey?'

It took her a moment, but she finally opened her eyes, and when she did, the vivid green of them nearly knocked him back on his arse. Or, would have, if he wasn't already lying down.

Her eyes cracked open at first, but once she registered the strange man lying next to her, staring at her, and shaking her shoulder, they snapped open, and she gasped, 'Who the fuck are you?'

He was so surprised she didn't scream, didn't move immediately away from him, that it took him a moment to get his bearings.

'I - I'm James. Uh, James Potter,' the hand he had resting on her shoulder jumped back, and he ran it through his hair, 'this is, uh, my tent?'

Her eyes widened in surprise, 'What?' She rolled away from him, looked at the sleeping bag she'd tucked herself into, the holdall, his holdall, in the corner, and she gasped, a bit louder this time, the colour rising on her cheeks.

'Shit, shit, shit,' she said, scrambling to pull herself out from under the sleeping bag, 'I'm so, so sorry, I - _fuck,_ this must have scared the shit out of you.'

'Actually,' James said, pushing himself up to sitting and running his hand through his hair again, 'it uh - it's alright, actually.'

He was trying not to gape at her now, but it was really, really hard not to now that he realised what she was wearing. Whatever trousers she'd had on when she stumbled into his tent, she'd taken off (he noticed the shorts, now that he looked, balled up on the floor near the entrance to the tent), and she was sitting there in some kind of black knickers that should be totally and completely illegal, and a shirt that, honestly, should be outlawed with them. _Does it even count as a shirt if it doesn't even cover most of your torso? Fuck, she's noticing, FOCUS, POTTER._

She was looking at him, a slightly glazed look on her face, and when she licked her bottom lip, James thought (no, knew) he was having a stroke. He cleared his throat, leaned over, and grabbed her shorts (and the mobile underneath them), tried to keep his hands from trembling when he handed them to her. She cleared her throat, 'Thanks,' and James closed his eyes, turned around to give her a bit of privacy.

'Uh, you can look now.'

He'd honestly been expecting her to pull her shorts on and run out the tent door, so when she spoke again, he very nearly gave himself whiplash turning around to look at her. She was sitting cross-legged on top of the edge of the sleeping bag, colour still flushed across her cheeks from where it had burned a few minutes ago. She brushed a curl out of her eyes, tucked it behind her ear, 'Thought I should introduce myself, at least,' the blush on her cheeks intensified by a fraction, and James felt his heart jump in his chest. She extended her hand, 'I'm Lily. Lily Evans.'

James wrapped his fingers around her hand, narrowly avoided sucking in a sharp breath when she gripped his hand firmly in hers and smiled at him. Her fucking smile… James could tell, he _knew_ , that it was nothing like what her smiles could be, that it was a ghost of the brilliance he was sure they radiated, but it still set his pulse skittering.

He swallowed, 'Nice, uh,' he cleared his throat, and her smile intensified at his awkwardness, and he was positive that he was near death now, 'Nice to meet you, Lily.'

'And you, James,' she dropped his hand, and pushed herself to her feet, 'I guess I'll uh,' she pointed her thumb behind her shoulder, and James, too stunned to say anything (too distracted by her impossibly long legs, her round hips, the freckles that had popped up across her abdomen), just watched her walk out the door.

It took him a moment to realise the enormity of his mistake, but as soon as he realised it, he was up on his feet. He nearly tripped and killed himself on the edge of his sleeping bag ( _That would have really drawn her in, Potter, great work - don't mind this actively bleeding gash on my forehead, let's get married please_ ), but he managed to propel himself through the gap in the tent and out into the tent row.

He looked both ways, and, spotting her just at the end of his row, jogged after her. He had covered about half the distance between them when he shouted, 'Oi! Evans,' and she whipped round.

She looked a bit shocked at first, watching him run towards her (still not wearing a shirt, still in just his fucking pants), but she just dropped one hand to her hip and watched him. He couldn't believe she didn't try to move away (especially once he'd come to a stop in front of her and realised he was covered in mud about halfway up his calves).

She raised an eyebrow at him, 'Did I forget something?'

He breathed a laugh, 'If I say "my number" is that too cheesy?'

Lily laughed, a bright, loud laugh that punched him in the chest, 'Try it and find out.'

James ran his hand through his hair, 'You forgot to get my number, Evans.'

She pulled her mobile out of the back pocket of her shorts and unlocked it, tapped on a few things, and began to scroll. James rocked his weight back onto his heels, ran his hand through his hair again, when Lily clicked her tongue, 'You know what, Potter, you're right. I don't have your number. Why don't you add it in here for me?'

She held the mobile out to him and smiled again, broader, fuller, brighter than any smile she'd smiled yet, and it took everything he had to focus on not dropping her mobile into the mud. He added in his contact information and handed her back the phone.

Lily checked the screen and positively beamed at him, 'Brilliant. Now, stand still.'

James laughed, 'For what?'

Lily stepped back a few paces, held her mobile up, 'Contact picture.'

And before James could say anything else, he heard the shutter go off.

* * *

He watched her walk away for the second time that morning, his heart hammering hard in his chest as she went. He wanted to call out to her again, loop his arm through hers, spend the day talking, laughing, avoiding the mud. He wanted to _know_ her, what made her tick, what made her drop her head back and laugh, what made her feel alive, exhilarated, what her skin felt like against his.

But he watched her walk away, and, when she was far enough that he couldn't distinguish her bright red hair from the rest of the colourful tents in the field, he turned on his heel and strode back towards his own.

He stumbled back into the tent, tripped over the edge of the sleeping bag again ( _I'm burning this fucking thing as soon as when we get back_ ), and, though he was sure that there was absolutely no way that she'd contacted him already, he grabbed his mobile off the ground all the same. It lit up when he lifted it, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw a message from an unknown number, sent a few minutes ago -

 _0191 498 0724: Your contact picture is my new favourite thing. I can't stop looking at it xx_

James quickly added her number to his address book before he did something stupid (like accidentally delete her message) before he tapped out a reply -

 _James Potter: What about it really does it for you? Is it the mud? Xx_

Her reply was almost immediate and nearly killed him -

 _Lily Evans: Definitely not the mud. Text me later - maybe I'll meet you and tell you in person. Xxx_

He made a sound so unbelievably embarrassing that he was thankful, for the second time already that morning, that Sirius wasn't within earshot.

The moment Sirius and Remus stumbled into his tent, just gone ten, James told them everything. Sirius nearly died laughing when Remus spit water on himself. 'You're shitting me,' Remus said, fanning his shirt so it would dry, 'there is no fucking way that happened.'

James barely suppressed the stupid grin threatening to overrun his face, the one Sirius would never let him forget. 'I know,' he said, 'it's fucking mad.'

Sirius grinned, 'Thank fuck for it, though - it's not like you've been meeting women on your own, mate.'

'Oi! I've been on a date recently!'

Sirius leaned back onto his arms, cocked an amused eyebrow at James, 'The fact that you define recently as "within the last year" almost makes me feel sorry for you.'

James crossed his arms, 'How do you know I haven't been on dates since then?'

Sirius snorted, 'Please. Now you're just embarrassing yourself.'

James groaned, 'I hate you. I hate you so, _so_ much.'

Sirius laughed, loud and long, 'No you don't, James.'

James shot Remus a look, 'Why do we put up with this?'

Remus grinned, 'I can think of a few reasons on my end. Not sure about you, though.'

Sirius beamed, kissed him, and James groaned, 'One day we'll be able to have a conversation that doesn't end in the two of you snogging.'

'God,' Remus said, slinging his arm around Sirius' shoulders, 'I hope not.'

'Okay, _back to me,'_ James said, spotting the look Sirius was giving Remus and having none of it, 'what do I do?'

'You wait.'

'I - what?'

'Yeah,' Sirius said, 'you wait. Text her tomorrow morning. No, afternoon. Even better.'

'Why the fuck do I have to wait?!'

'Oh, I'm sorry, are you the romance expert here?'

'You didn't wait with Remus!'

'That's different,' Sirius said, rolling his eyes. 'Can you just trust me on this? Take her to bloody Ed Sheeran tomorrow, god knows we don't want to go with you.'

James sighed, 'I don't want her to think - '

'Mate, she won't. We're at a fucking _festival,_ I'm sure she's busy. Like,' Sirius pressed a kiss to Remus' cheek, stood, and brushed off, 'we should be. Come on you prats.'

Remus groaned, 'Sirius, it's just that Beatles cover band, why - '

Sirius rolled his eyes, 'Whatever, can we just get up? At least wander around or something? I'm getting bored sitting here.'

Remus sighed, got to his feet, and reached down to pull James to standing. Sirius slung his arm around Remus' waist, ducked out of the tent, and James pulled his mobile out of his back pocket as he followed them.

 _My brother says that I'm not allowed to text you until tomorrow. Xx_

His mobile buzzed a moment later and James barely contained what would have been a very ( _very_ ) embarrassing squeal - _My best mate said that too! Prats don't know what we have ;)_

James chuckled, let the grin spread across his face -

 _James Potter: Oh? And what do we have Evans?_

 _Lily Evans: You'll have to find out tomorrow xxxx_

 _James Potter: I can't wait xxxxx_

'Oi, James, what are you doing?'

James stuffed his mobile back into his trouser pocket, jogged to catch up, 'Checking the weather!'

* * *

He managed to (largely) keep himself from texting Lily all day and actually, much to Sirius' delight, ended up enjoying himself a lot more on Saturday than he had the day before. He supposed he was used to it now, the mud, the dirt, the mass of people that all smelled vaguely like sweat and whatever body spray they used to cover up that sweat.

He'd even gotten Sirius to dance with him at Katy Perry on Saturday night - they'd carved out a space around themselves, held hands, danced with wild, enthusiastic movements, screamed all the words, and Remus just stood by, shaking his head, and laughing. They weren't a fan favourite in their immediate area, but James had enough energy (and whiskey) coursing through him not to care.

When he woke up the next morning, the festival was already roaring around him - he heard music in the distance, his mobile was vibrating insistently on the floor next to his head, and his back ached from sleeping on the bloody ground two nights in a row, but he felt so grossly exhilarated that he nearly broke his glasses in his haste to find them.

He found the mobile first, and pressed it to his ear while he continued searching for his glasses. 'What?' He finally found his glasses on the floor and shoved them onto his face.

'Oh, well good morning to you, too, sunshine.'

James shot up, checked the screen ( _Lily Evans_ ), and pressed it back to his ear, 'Shit, sorry, I thought you were my brother.'

She laughed, 'I am _definitely_ not your brother.'

James chuckled, 'Clearly. So how can I help you?'

Lily snorted, 'Is this a customer service call?'

'I don't know,' James said, leaning back onto his arm, 'is it?'

'In a way. What shows are you going to today?'

He grinned, 'You asking me on a date?'

She didn't even hesitate - 'Yes.'

James bit his lip, 'You like Ed Sheeran?'

She laughed again, 'Do I like Ed Sheeran. Of _course_ I like Ed Sheeran, you git.'

'Go with me tonight,' he said. She laughed again, 'I thought I was asking you.'

'Guess you'll have to be quicker next time.'

'How do you know there's going to be a next time?'

He was glad she wasn't there, because he was sure that the smile on his face was making him look completely mad (he'd have to get a handle on that before he saw her tonight) - 'Something about you, Evans.'

'And what if I don't like you?'

He laughed, 'Impossible.'

'Someone's cocky.'

'Confident,' he corrected. She snorted, 'Alright, Mr Confident. Meet me at The Chameleon at eight. We'll get drinks and then head in when whoever the fuck goes on before Ed is done.'

James nodded, 'Sounds like a plan. I'll see you then, Evans.'

He swore he heard a smile in her voice when she said, 'See you, Potter.'

He spent all day on the edge of his seat, bouncing on the balls of his heels, checking out during conversations. Sirius had grabbed him by the shoulders more than once and shaken him to get James' attention back _._ Sirius finally snapped after a few hours of this - they'd wandered back to their camp for lunch, and Sirius was trying to get them to engage in some kind of discourse ('Best bar at Glastonbury, discuss') but James hadn't been paying a single bit of attention.

'I swear to god, James, if this is going to be your new normal, I'm going to kill you.'

'Please,' James flicked a crisp at him, 'do you remember what you were like when you and Remus started dating?'

Sirius leaned back onto his arm and shot James a confused look, 'We were as amazing as we always are?'

'I don't think "amazing" is the word I'm looking for here.'

Sirius pulled a bit of bread off his sandwich and hit James with it. Remus sighed, 'Just be happy for him, Sirius,' he reached over and rested his hand on top of Sirius', 'he'll settle eventually. We did.'

Sirius rolled his eyes, 'I'm not here for your mellow nonsense today, Lupin. And anyway, he doesn't even know her! What if she's terrible?'

James shook his head, 'She isn't. She's brilliant.'

'How do you know,' Sirius said, leaning forward, 'how do you _know,_ James? What do you even know about her?'

James sighed, ran a hand through his hair, 'I - fuck, Sirius, I don't know, she just - she's funny and witty and dead clever and sharp.'

'And fit,' Sirius said, cocking an eyebrow. 'And fit,' James said, 'But it's mostly those other things.'

'But you - ' Sirius sighed, and Remus shifted closer to him, rested his hand on his thigh, 'you still don't know anything about her. What if she voted Leave, James?'

James rolled his eyes, 'Obviously that's a dealbreaker, but - '

Sirius stood up abruptly, 'I'm going to go get some water. You guys need any?'

James shook his head, took another bite of his sandwich, let his eyes fall to his lap. Remus looked from Sirius to James and back again, before he shook his head at Sirius too. 'No thanks,' he said, 'I'm going to make another sandwich. You good to go on your own?'

Sirius shrugged, 'Yeah. Alright, I'll bring back a litre or whatever.'

Remus smiled, 'Great, thanks.' Sirius dipped, kissed him, and then started off down the hill. James took another bite of his sandwich.

Remus opened up the peanut butter, quietly set about making himself another sandwich. When he finished putting everything away, he leaned back onto one arm, sighed, 'He's just being protective, you know.'

James had been looking at his knees, grumbling internally about Sirius and _how fucking dare he,_ and his eyes snapped up to Remus' when he spoke. 'He worries about you,' Remus continued, taking a bite of his sandwich, 'he knows how you are - '

'How _am_ I Remus?' His tone was sharper than he'd intended, but Remus didn't even flinch.

'You wear your heart on your sleeve, mate. You jump in early and you go right for the deep end.'

James opened his mouth to disagree, 'I - ' Remus shot him a look and he sighed, 'Alright, yeah.'

'I'm not saying that's a bad thing, mate,' Remus took another bite, 'It's actually one of the best things about you, especially with two repressed fucks for best friends.' He gave James a wry smile and James chuckled.

'I'm just saying,' Remus said, 'he worries. He's not right to get all worked up like that, but it's coming from a good place.'

James sighed, ran his hand through his hair, 'No, I know. I just want to give her a chance before Sirius starts freaking out about how she could possibly be some secret Nigel Farage lover.'

'No, I know,' Remus said, nodding his head, 'Like I said, he worries.'

'He wasn't like this about anyone else that I've - ' he almost said "dated" but stopped himself. Remus smiled, 'You weren't ever this excited, mate. Even with Amelia. This is… I don't know, mate, it's different.'

James smiled, felt the warmth flooding through his entire body, 'It is, isn't it?'

Remus grinned, 'Yeah, it is. And I'm dead fucking chuffed for you if this works out, mate. But Sirius sees how excited you are and - '

'That opens up opportunities for heartbreak,' James finished, nodding, 'yeah.'

'Exactly,' Remus grabbed a crisp from the packet between them. 'Just… just give him a little time. He'll come round.'

James nodded, finished his sandwich, set about making himself a third. 'You're amazing, mate,' he said, looking up and grinning at Remus, 'have I ever told you that?'

Remus grinned, 'Yes, but not nearly often enough.'

James laughed.

* * *

About a quarter til eight, James left Remus and Sirius at the West Holts stage and made his way towards the bar where he was meeting Lily. He'd cooled it down with the Lily talk for the rest of the day, but he'd noticed that Sirius was still looking a bit put out when James had turned to leave.

He'd always trusted Sirius' opinion of people implicitly, never felt the need to question it, especially because Sirius' gut response to people was often _so_ dead on. Sirius had never met Lily, though, so James knew that he couldn't take what Sirius was saying to heart, at least not yet, and especially not when he added what Remus had said earlier into the mix.

Sirius could end up being right, of course - she could end up being some mad fucking UKIP supporter and then James would literally never live it down after Sirius had tried to "warn him." That _could_ happen, but so could a lot of other things, and anyway, James knew that there was no way Sirius was right about this.

He knew it was the heart on his sleeve that was informing this decision, but he couldn't find it in himself to care, to let Sirius' doubts cast clouds over the evening.

Because, ultimately, Remus was right - even with Amelia, his last serious girlfriend (a million fucking years ago), he'd never felt exactly the way that he was feeling right now. He'd loved Amelia, had really, really liked a lot of the other people he'd dated, but there was just _something_ about Lily. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on, something that drew him in. She was fiery and bold and hilarious and witty and dead fucking clever and so, _so_ fucking fit and he wanted to learn every single thing about her. The fact that this was happening so early should probably have made him nervous, should probably have made him want to take a step back, to cool it, but it didn't.

He'd have to get a handle on that when he got to the bar. He couldn't exactly greet her with 'Hi, haven't stopped thinking about you, I want to spend approximately every minute of the rest of our lives together, okay thanks,' without coming off like an absolute madman.

The bright, technicolour lights inside The Cameleon stung his eyes after the darkness outside, and it took him a moment (and some rapid blinking) to adjust his vision. He scanned the bar quickly for Lily, looking for her vibrant red hair before he realised that he'd never be able to see it properly in this fucking light anyway. He didn't see her (he'd checked three times just to be sure), so he wandered over to the bar, ordered a gin and tonic, and took a few sips while he waited, his back up against the edge of the bar so he could see the door.

She walked in a minute later, and his heart started thudding in his chest as she scanned the crowd, took off at fucking hyperspeed when her eyes finally found his and she broke into a broad, excited smile. She started moving through the crowd, her eyes trained on him as she navigated the packed bar, and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She had another one of those bloody half shirts on, her hair was sparkling with fresh glitter paint and it shone in the light from the bar. She came to a stop in front of him a moment later, reached over, took the drink out of his hand, and, smirking at him over the rim, took a long drag.

'Wasn't aware I'd offered you my drink, Evans,' he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

She laughed, took another sip, and handed it back to him, and James was honestly surprised he remembered how to hold things. 'Wasn't aware I needed to ask permission, Potter.'

James sighed, tried to look exasperated, but knew he was failing miserably, 'First my tent, now my drink. What next?'

She grinned, 'You'll have to wait and see, won't you?'

She sat down on the stool next to him and they both turned so they were facing the bar. Lily ordered two gin and tonics ("One single, one double tall," that had made him raise his eyebrows. She'd rolled her eyes, "I've got to catch up, Potter.") and leaned her elbow onto the bar and faced him.

'So,' she said, smiling so broadly at him she looked like she could barely contain herself, 'how excited are you about Ed Sheeran on a scale of one to ten?'

James beamed, 'Only about a million.'

They finished their drinks and Lily, too excited to wait another moment, grabbed James by the hand and drug him for the bar the moment the show in the Pyramid was over. There were people waiting around towards the front of the field already, a few leftovers from the show before that were stacked a few rows deep across the front of the stage, but Lily pulled him through the crowd as far up as she could get them, turned and beamed at him when she managed to get them in front of the centre of the stage. She didn't let go of his hand.

'And you said I wouldn't be able to get us a good spot,' she said. She was practically bouncing on her toes in excitement and James laughed, ran his free hand through his hair, 'I never should have doubted you, Evans.'

She grinned cheekily, and he fully expected some witty retort, but then she squeezed his hand, stepped closer to him, and her smile softened, 'Tell me about you.'

They had an hour until the show started and they used it to their advantage. He told her about his family, his best friends, studying Geography at Oxford, how he'd played for their football club until a combined ACL/MCL tear put him in a hinged brace for months and left him with a knee that was never quite the same again. How he'd gone back to school and gotten his teacher certification, how his kids remind him of him and his friends when they were their age, how he works every day to be half as good as Minnie, the secondary teacher who changed his whole damn life.

He told her that he'd lived in London his entire life, that he can't imagine himself living anywhere else. That his dad was a chemist, his mum was a doctor, that they'd loved him more than he'd probably ever deserved. That he'd once had another best friend who turned out to be an absolute fucking traitor. That he hadn't spoken to him, or about him, in eight years.

She told him she was getting a DPhil in Astrophysics at the University of London, that her best friend, her _sister_ , Marlene and her girlfriend Dorcas had dragged her to the festival, and it was the first time she'd been out of the lab in weeks. She said that she already had a job lined up at the Royal Observatory when she graduated, that she was so fucking excited to get there that she could barely wait to be finished.

She told him that she grew up outside of Leeds, that she'd left for London as soon as she could, that she couldn't see herself living anywhere else ever again. That her dad had built houses her whole life, her mum worked in a library, that though she'd never _really_ wanted, they'd never had much. That her parents were so, so proud of her and everything she'd accomplished. That she was terrified of letting them down. That she had a sister that hadn't talked to her in almost twelve years.

She told him she'd never played a single match of football in her life, he swore he'd teach her a few things.

He told her he didn't understand how it worked, having an observatory that close to London - he'd never once seen the stars properly, not once in all the years he'd lived there. She swore she'd show him sometime.

He liked how easy she was to talk to, how easily she laughed at his stupid jokes, how warm and firm her hand was in his, how he could see whole worlds in her eyes when she smiled. The sky got darker, people packed in around them, the roar of the crowd got steadily louder, but they just stood there, his hand in hers, moving closer so they could hear, chatting away. They finally broke apart when the crowd absolutely surged around them - people were chanting, the lights came up, and everyone screamed all at once - Lily's face lit up, Ed started strumming, and they both started screaming.

It was… it was _transcendent._ They screamed, sang, danced, held up their phones when he asked, clapped, threw their arms in the air, and revelled in the swell of the music around them, in the energy of the people in the crowd that loved this music, that were living this moment with them. And in the middle of all that, smile brighter than anything he'd ever seen, was Lily, singing along with every word, her hair flying around behind her as she danced, jumped, swayed to the music, and James' stomach _hurt_ watching her, she was so damn beautiful.

Ed told them they should aim to lose their voices, and damn if they didn't try.

They shouted out the words to "Galway Girl," screamed at the top of their lungs when, in the middle of "Take it Back" he slid into "Superstition," into "Sunshine," and back. Lily grabbed his hand again during "Nancy Mulligan," spun him round, his laughter blending with the lyrics, the stage lights shining off her hair as she spun and making him dizzy. He tugged her in close as soon as it was over, her back to his chest, his arms around her waist, sang "Thinking Out Loud" in her ear, loved the way that she leaned back into him, reached up and wound her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck.

And then she was spinning away from him again, blowing his mind when she did the whole rap in the middle of "Sing," when she dipped her head back and screamed the chorus, when she let him pull her close again and run his hands over her hips during "Shape of You." And then it was over, Ed, Pride flag still around his neck, had trotted off the stage, James and Lily were still screaming and jumping in place, and the people around them showed no signs of leaving, at least not for a while.

Lily turned to him and started talking, her voice hoarse from screaming. 'Oh. My. Fucking. God,' she said, grabbing him by the hand and shaking his arm, 'OH MY GOD!'

James beamed, his smile so wide he thought his whole face was going to crack. 'I KNOW,' he said, squeezing her hand, 'I KNOW!'

People around them eventually started to spill out of the performance area, began stumbling into the bars all around the field, but Lily just gripped his hand more firmly, started tugging him back towards the campsites. He leaned down so that she could hear him, 'We going back to my tent or are you _also_ on Pennard Hill?'

Lily looked up at him and grinned, 'I figured I'd invite myself over again. If that's alright?'

She quirked an eyebrow and James could tell that she was really asking. He leaned down the rest of the way and pressed his lips to hers, light, quick, barely there, and smiled as he pulled away, 'I reckon that's alright, Evans.'

He's not sure how they got back to his tent, just knows that he's never crossed from the centre of the festival into the campsite that quickly, and certainly never with this level of anticipation.

She'd kissed him again before they were even really in his tent, just wrapped her arms up around his neck and pulled him to her as soon as they'd dropped their boots at the door, her tongue sliding over his bottom lip and making him gasp into her mouth. He barely managed to keep from stumbling through the tent flap, figured that tripping into the damn thing (or over the edge of that fucking sleeping bag) would have completely ruined the mood. The minute they were properly inside, Lily's hands moved underneath the hem of his t shirt, pulled it up, and, when he moved his hands off her hips, over his head.

She'd managed to get his trousers unbuttoned and halfway down his thighs before he'd managed _anything,_ and she laughed when he moved to kiss her neck, 'I thought you'd be better at this, Potter, I have to say.'

He grazed his teeth along her neck in response, leaned back and tugged off her shirt. 'Better,' she said, still laughing, 'but - '

But then her shorts were on the floor, his arm was around her waist, she was pressed up against him, and whatever she was going to say apparently didn't matter.

He couldn't get close enough, couldn't move his hands over her quickly enough - now that he knew what she looked like (gorgeous, fit, _so fit_ ), he wanted to know, _needed_ to know what she felt like under his fingertips, what would make her tremble, moan, pull him tighter against her. She was running her hands over every piece of him that she could reach, his stomach, chest, around his sides, pressing into his shoulders, and his mind was racing with all the things he wanted to do, with all the things that he was feeling, that she was making him feel, and he -

He'd just - without anything to - there was no smooth way to transition, he was basically going to have to look at her and say _fancy lying down on the floor, love?_ The moment he'd thought it, he started laughing.

'This is so awkward,' he said, laughing against her lips, 'without something to sit on or fall onto or - '

She laughed, pulled back a bit to look at him, 'I was just thinking that.'

He grinned, kissed her again briefly, 'Great minds, Evans.'

She rolled her eyes, pulled away, and sat down unceremoniously in the sleeping bag, raised her eyebrow at him. He'd never fallen to the floor that quickly in his life.

She grinned as he moved to kiss her again, put one hand on her hip, one in her hair, and pulled himself over her, and then her hands were moving frantically over him again, pulling him with her as she laid down.

They both moaned when their hips knocked together, James sucked in a sharp breath when she did it again, groaned when he moved his hand from her hip, slid it between them, and realised how wet she was. She'd arched her neck when he brushed his fingers along her clit, broke the kiss, and when he did it again, more firmly this time, and she moaned in his ear, James knew that he wanted to hear that sound every goddamn day for the rest of his fucking life. He slid down, dropping kisses as he went, moved his hand to her hip, put his mouth on her, didn't stop until she arched against him, her thighs shook, and her moans exploded in his ears.

'James,' she grabbed his arms, pulled him up, kissed him again, murmured, 'if you don't get a condom right now, I swear to god,' against his lips. He swore, leaned back and scanned the room for his bag, rolled off her and grabbed the box buried at the bottom.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows as he opened it and pulled one out, tossed the box back into the bag. 'You brought an _entire box,_ ' she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. James shook his head, rolled his eyes, tore the foil packet open, 'My brother put it in there. He thinks he's hilarious.'

Lily laughed, 'He also clearly has too much faith in you if you never even opened the damn thing while you were - '

He'd settled back on top of her, ran his hand up the length of her side, kissed her again, smiling against her lips when she groaned into his mouth, wrapped her leg around his hip, and pressed him against her.

'We done taking the piss,' James asked, moving to kiss down her neck, reaching down so that he could position himself. Lily moaned into his ear, 'Just fuck me.'

* * *

When James woke up the next morning, his whole side was warm.

Lily was still pressed against him, her breath hot on his neck, her fingers warm against his skin. He wanted to shift them out from underneath the sleeping bag, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He just lifted his right arm, carefully, and wedged his hand under his head so that he could look at her.

Her head was nestled in the crook of his neck, her dark red hair curling down her back, trailing across his chest, leaving glitter all over his skin. Her arm was wrapped low around his waist and he could see the freckles along her arms, on her shoulders, on her lower back. The light from the sun outside was still a rich orange, and even though he knew that he should go back to sleep, he couldn't stop looking at her, the way her skin glowed in the early morning light, the way her fingers twitched against his abdomen just a little bit, pressed into his skin, pulled him just that much closer to her.

He pressed his fingers into her back, pulled her into him.

He turned his head just a bit, his chin bumping up against her forehead, and she stirred, groaned into his skin, 'You better not be waking me up.'

He chuckled, 'No, Evans, never,' but at his words she just groaned again, buried her face deeper into his neck, tightened her grip around his waist. He turned onto his side and she huffed, 'I was comfortable,' but James just laughed, pressed a kiss to her forehead, 'I don't care,' he said, reaching out and brushing a piece of hair off of her forehead, 'I want to see you.'

She didn't even bother opening her eyes to look at him, just tried to scoot forward and press her face into his chest. He chuckled again, grabbed her hip to still her and she opened her eyes just a fraction to glare at him. He was beaming when she caught sight of him and she huffed again, 'Stop staring at me,' but there was a smile tugging on the corners of her lips now.

He laughed, pulled her a little closer to him. 'Sorry,' he said, reaching out and running his fingers along her cheek, down the side of her neck, 'I can't.' She opened her eyes fully then, 'You're pathetic,' she said, but the way she reached up, curled her fingers into his hair suggested a different story altogether.

'Yeah,' he said, and he pressed her hip so she was lying on her back, rolled so he was hovering over her. She raised an eyebrow at him, 'Well, this just got interesting.'

She was looking at him, her dark green eyes shining in the light streaming through the tent, waiting for him to do something, but she was so gorgeous just then, so unbelievably beautiful that he just had to -

He reached up over his head, and Lily laughed, tilted her head so that she could watch him, 'What are you doing?'

He grabbed his mobile from the floor, swiped to open the camera, and moved the phone back between them, positioned her face in the frame.

He smirked at her over top of the mobile, 'Contact picture.'

And even though she had a bit of mud smeared over her left eyebrow and her hair still had that fucking glitter paint in and she'd just woken up, the smile on her face, the memory of her laugh ringing in his ears as he snapped it, the way her body felt pressed against his made it the most beautiful picture he'd ever seen.


End file.
